


Reflections

by Lady_Impala



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Accidental Knife Play, Anal Sex, Angst, Blow Job, Date Night, Fantasy, First Time, Fluff, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Past Abuse, Plot What Plot, shower
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-10
Updated: 2017-11-21
Packaged: 2018-09-16 12:33:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9272024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Impala/pseuds/Lady_Impala
Summary: Credence and Graves have been living together for some time now, settled into a routine. Both are dancing around their feelings, neither willing to take that first step. But then the first slip...and it's all downhill from there.





	1. Alone

**Author's Note:**

> Started as a one-shot, turned into a vague chapter work. Not a whole lot of plot, but lots of angst and fluff, and long-con smutty smut. And trust me, we'll get to the smut. <3 Comments, as always, are appreciated!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Credence has some uncommon time alone in the apartment he and Mr. Graves now share. He takes advantage of his privacy to get a good look at himself, and indulge in some fantasy.

Early morning sunlight filtered through the heavy curtains that hung in front of Credence’s bedroom window. He stirred on the bed, stretching with a small squeak and the pop of several joints. The house was quiet, and even the ambient noise from outside seemed somehow dampened. Absently curious just how early it was, the young man slid out of bed and peered out of his bedroom down the hall.

No signs of life, but a quick glance across the hall to Mr. Graves’ room told him the older man wasn’t in there. Credence wandered down the hall towards the kitchen and found a quickly scrawled note. The man’s handwriting put Credence’s mediocre reading skills to the test, but the best he could glean, he’d had an early morning meeting, but would return as soon as possible, and would Credence care to join him for lunch? 

It wasn’t like he had any other plans, Credence thought a little dryly. But, ever a proper gentleman, of course Mr. Graves would ask first. With a small chuckle and a shake of his head, Credence let the note fall back to the table. Even though it was a moderately sized apartment they shared, or more accurately that Mr. Graves allowed him to take up a small corner of, it felt downright cavernous when he was alone. Especially with the lingering fear now that Grindelwald was on the loose again. A sudden chill raced up his arms, and Credence rubbed at them absently through the thin linen of his nightshirt. He wished that Mr. Graves had lit a fire in the fireplace before leaving, but it looked like he’d been called out on short notice. Perhaps there was a development in Grindelwald’s escape?

Credence shook his head hard to dislodge the growing anxiety that gnawed at the back of his mind. “I need a distraction,” he said aloud. It was a trick he’d learned as a child; if he spoke out loud, heard himself, he was more likely to believe whatever he’d said, plus it helped chase away the monsters.

Or so he’d thought, at any rate.

Worrying at the inside of his cheek, Credence stared somewhat absently around the apartment, not sure what to do with himself. “A shower,” he finally decided. “I need one anyway, so why not now?” With a decisive nod, Credence pivoted on his bare foot and headed for the bathroom.

Like everything else in Mr. Graves’ home, it was tastefully opulent, a subtle nod to just how much money Mr. Graves had if you knew what to look for. Tile, burnished brass accents, high quality porcelain. Either through the mysteries of indoor plumbing, or some kind of magic, the floor was comfortably warm beneath his bare feet. Nothing that made his social standing obvious to the casual observer, as Credence had seen before; understated, tasteful. Intimidating in its own right. Still-too-thin fingers drifted slowly along the edge of the bright tile counter, savoring the smooth feeling against his skin. He looked up at himself in the mirror, a long, shimmering thing that reflected the image of himself down to his waist. 

There had been no mirrors in the church where he’d grown up. Ma insisted that it would only promote vanity, so forbade them. And it wasn’t like Credence spent a lot of time in places that had mirrors either; as a result, he was unfamiliar with how his own body looked. He glanced nervously around, as if someone might be watching, before slowly stripping out of his nightshirt.

The first thing Credence noticed about himself was how pale he was. He thought for a brief moment that if he stood naked in the snow, he’d be nearly invisible. It made his black hair even more striking, now growing into a more even length with little curls that wrapped around the tips of his ears. On top of that, his skin was extremely thin; he could see the vein in his neck throbbing with his unexpectedly skipping pulse, a streak of blue beneath his skin. Though truth be told, everything about him was thin; despite having spent over a month living with Mr. Graves, he was still a little bony. His ribs were too prominent, his elbows too pointy, and his hip bones jutted awkwardly over the edge of his pants. Credence hooked his thumbs into the waistband as if to slide them down, but paused. Instead, fingers still holding onto the fabric, he swallowed hard and turned, keeping his eyes on the mirror as his back came into view.

His first real look at his back was startling. Credence closed his eyes with a sharp intake of breath, feeling his heart skip a beat. He had suspected it would be bad, but not nearly so bad as all that. After a moment, he opened his eyes again and looked closely. A vast network of scars littered his back, thickest across his shoulders. One hand drifted up his back at an angle, his fingers tracing the two thickest welts. Most of the scars had faded into memory as to how he’d come by them; those two, he remembered distinctly. The searing pain of the belt buckle was likely a sensation he’d never forget.

Tears welled up in his eyes, and he turned abruptly away from the sight of himself. His hands trembled a little, and he fought back the shame that threatened to choke him. Perhaps it was best that Mr. Graves seemed to be keeping his distance; how could he want to look at that, after all?

That didn’t stop the wanting, though.

Somewhat more aggressively than necessary. Credence shoved his pants down and turned back around to face the whole of himself in the mirror. He took a step back from the sink, revealing himself down to the mid thigh. The angle of his hips was more pronounced now that he was naked, casting deep shadows across his fair skin. A shock of dark curls surrounded the base of his shaft, which he belatedly realized was hardening, even as he watched. Once again looking around, as if afraid he was being watched by some unseen observer, he looked back at the mirror and watched himself as he wrapped one slim hand around himself. 

It was rare that Credence allowed himself the luxury of self-pleasure. He hadn’t even intentionally tried it until after his first meeting with the man he thought was Mr. Graves. More than once, he’d woken to find himself hard and aching, or laying in some mystery wet spot, but those were few and far between; Ma made it out to be extremely shameful, so he did his best to stifle those urges, along with everything else. He’d gotten so good at it, even in his newfound freedom, he didn’t indulge often. Certainly never in front of a mirror. But on occasion, late at night when he was sure Mr. Graves was asleep, he would bury his face in his pillow to muffle the noises he made, and bring himself to climax as quickly as he could, picturing those deft fingers, those soft lips on him.

His eyes were wide with fascination as he watched his hand move up and down his velvety soft length, feeling the hot flesh grow and harden beneath his fingers. Goosebumps rippled over his skin, and a whispered moan snuck past his lips. He bit down hard on his cheek to silence himself, then remembered Mr. Graves mentioning something about sound-proofing, after he’d worried the neighbors had heard him in the throes of an ugly nightmare. Secure then in his privacy, Credence relaxed a little and let himself moan.

The sound was throaty, pure in its honest obscenity. He let the sound roll around in his mouth, echoing off the cold tiles. Pre-cum glimmered on the head of his reddening shaft, dribbling down to add an addictive slick to the sensation. Heat was building fast at the base of his spine, a coiled tension that grew the longer he touched himself. He wasn’t so unfamiliar with his own body that he didn’t recognize the signs of nearing orgasm, so he quickly released himself, gaze lingering briefly on how red and swollen he was before turning to the shower and flipping the water on as hot as he could stand.

After all, if he was going to make a mess, best to do it somewhere that clean up would be easy.

Taking a quick moment to snag the straight edge razor Mr. Graves had loaned him for the once-weekly shaves he had to do, Credence stepped into the shower and set the razor in the small alcove in the wall. Scalding water hit his skin and made him hiss. Hot showers were a new-found addiction of his; years spent with nothing more than a bowl of cold water and a sponge gave him a deep appreciation for the indulgence of it. Turning his back to the water, Credence tipped his head back and let the water slick his hair back. 

With his head still back, he dropped his hand back down to his now-aching cock, gasping a little at the renewed contact. His other hand he propped on the wall for support, spreading his legs for better balance. Now slippery with water, Credence’s hand moved faster and easier, a new sensation that made his knees weak. His moans grew louder, muffled by the sound of the pouring water. He dropped his head down again, eyes half lidded as he watched himself. “Oh God…” he panted, licking his lips. Knowing he was alone, he felt emboldened and let his mind wander to a favorite fantasy of his; the two of them sprawled on Mr. Graves’ huge bed, Credence laying on his belly with the older man stretched across his back, buried deep inside of him. “Oh God, Graves…”

Holding that image in his mind, it didn’t take long for Credence to near his climax. Just as he crested, muscles tensing as he cried out Graves’ name, his hand slipped off the wall and dropped down to the shelf of the alcove. He sliced open the heel of his hand, the moan of pleasure sharply cut by a surprised shout. Something about the sting, the unexpectedness of it, intensified his orgasm. It dragged on longer, nearly bringing him to his knees as he felt the thick slick of his cum spill over his hand. Coffee dark eyes with pupils blown wide stared in open amazement at the cut of red across his hand, the stinging pain that heightened the deep throb of pleasure…

“Credence?!” The sound of the bathroom door opening quickly started him badly, and Credence pressed himself against the wall, staring at the frosted glass of the shower door that obscured the details of the silhouette he knew better than his own.

“M-Mr. Graves?!” he blurted back in shock, his softening cock still in one hand while the other dripped blood down into the water at his feet.

“Are you alright?” Mr. Graves’ voice was deep with concern, though he was at least considerate enough to stay in the doorway. He wasn’t totally sure, but he thought that the older wizard kept his face turned politely to the side, not looking at his own blurred silhouette through the glass.

“Y-yes. Yes, I’m fine,” Credence answered unsteadily. “I just…I just cut myself is all.” God above, how much had he heard? He felt a hot blush creep up his neck that he knew had nothing to do with the hot water.

“Oh. Oh, alright.” Mr. Graves took one step towards the shower, then froze. “Do you…” He seemed to be weighing his question, as if unsure how it might be taken. “Would you like me to take care of it for you?”

Credence closed both eyes and exhaled as slowly and as silently as he could manage. The sound of that deep voice was doing naughty things to him, stirring Credence to half-hardness again despite his recent release. The proximity, how easy it would be for them to just…

But no. That would never happen.

“Ah…n-no, Mr. Graves. I’m sure it will be fine. It’s just a small cut, the bleeding is slowing.” That much was true; the cut had been shallow, and was already beginning to clot.

Mr. Graves made an unconvinced noise in the back of his throat, and Credence could see him hesitate, but after a moment, he retreated back into the hall. “I’ll wait here until you finish, so I can look at it before I go back.”

“Why are you back?” Credence asked suddenly, realizing he hadn’t been expecting Mr. Graves home for several more hours.

There was a pause, then Mr. Graves sighed heavily. “There was an unconfirmed sighting of Grindelwald a few hours ago, just outside the city. I wanted to ensure that everything was alright here before beginning the search for him. It looks like we’ll have to postpone lunch this afternoon, I hope you don’t mind.” Credence’s blood froze in his veins, and he was quiet for long enough that Mr. Graves stepped back into the bathroom. “Credence?”

“I’m fine,” he snapped back, voice taut with anxiety. “Just…no, that’s fine, of course. Your work is important. Thank you for checking on me, Mr. Graves. I…I’ll be out in just a minute.” He didn’t want to talk about Grindelwald, not in such a vulnerable state, not so close to the man whose scent filled his nostrils and made his pulse pound. He did not want to color this intimate, sexual moment with that man’s name on his mind. 

Mr. Graves seemed to sense he was no longer welcome, so nodded curtly and turned on his slick heel. “I’ll be in the kitchen, then,” he said, not quite brusque, but harsher than usual, even for him. The door clicked shut firmly behind him, and Credence let out a heavy breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. Too many conflicting emotions and sensations whirled through him, so instead of trying to sort them out, he finished his shower quickly, foregoing the shave. He dressed with the same alacrity, and met Mr. Graves in the kitchen.


	2. Temptation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mr. Graves finds himself with a new fantasy, and the temptation grows stronger to give in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A continuation of the previous chapter. My first attempt at Graves' POV, so be kind. <3 Comments appreciated, as always!

It was impossibly late when Graves returned from his infuriatingly unsuccessful hunt for the fugitive. His long steps carried him briskly through the nearly abandoned halls of MACUSA, heavy coat billowing in the breeze his pace created. Black and white swirled around his legs, and anyone unfortunate enough to be in the hall with him skipped neatly to the side to avoid a collision; Graves clearly wasn’t going to change _his_ course, after all. He swept inside his office, all quiet fury and pent up rage, though his door closed almost silently behind him, magical locks falling into place.

Inside, Graves leaned against the door and thumped his head against the thick wood. Dark eyes nearly black with frustration stared at the soaring ceiling, barely taking note of the polished, simple beauty of the space. Both hands laid flat against the door, and he drummed the fingers of his right hand against the door. The silence weighed on his heart, and he let his eyes slid closed as he sighed. “Dammit.”

On his desk, a simple clock chimed the hour; two am. Graves groaned and dragged a hand down his face. Over fifteen hours spent on his feet, scouring the outskirts of New York. There had been a number of reports of Grindelwald sightings, and absolutely none of them had proven useful. A dozen Aurors still searched, but at the sharp command of Madame Picquery, he had been sent home.

Or so she believed, at any rate.

Instead, Graves returned to MACUSA. He knew it would be effectively vacant at this hour, so he could find some peace before going back home. Back to Credence. Several hours ago, Graves had sent Queenie to keep the boy company, knowing he couldn’t stand to be alone. Nor did he want him alone, to be honest. The wards on his home had been significantly strengthened, but the older man knew the presence of another magic user would set Credence at ease, not to mention relieve at least some of Graves’ own worry.

He should really get back home, let Queenie return to her own bed, and make sure that all was well. While Graves knew that he would have been notified the instant anything had gone wrong, his teeth were still on edge at the thought of them being alone. But Graves also knew he should not return home in his current condition. Not only was he too amped up to settled Credence’s nerves as he knew the boy needed, he was…preoccupied.

Earlier that morning, Graves had returned home to check in with Credence prior to beginning the search. So far as the boy understood it, he had only heard his exclamation of pain. That was not entirely accurate. He had, in fact, heard significantly more, including the less-than-subtle moaning of his own name. It had caused something deep in his gut to flip, a banked spark that flared to life. The repeated, earnest sound had gone straight to his cock, and he’d forced himself to distraction by starting tea in the kitchen.

Credence’s cry of pain had broken through his feeble attempts to divert his thoughts, and he’d nearly apparated straight into the bathroom in his haste to ensure the boy was alright. Upon opening the door, he’d caught sight of that beautifully slim body curled forward in an intimately familiar posture of sexual release. Even through the frosted glass, distorting his body, making the sharp angles somehow softer, sweeter. 

It had taken every ounce of Graves’ not inconsiderate self-control to stay in the doorway, rather than joining him in the shower. The idea of running his hands over that water-slick skin, hearing those sounds without the barrier of deception or walls, tasting those sinfully full lips…

But no. That train of thought was completely unacceptable.

Graves had been grateful for the distraction in the hunt; perhaps that had even been part of why he’d driven himself and the others so hard that day. But now that he was alone with his thoughts, they invariably strayed back to Credence. The sweet boy with more spine than he gave himself credit for. With that curious smile, and inexplicable aura that almost called to Graves. A strange, addictive mix of light and dark, something about him had taken root in the back of the wizard’s mind, and despite his every effort, and his better judgement, he couldn’t seem to pry him loose. Nor did he want to.

Even just the casual remembrance of the morning had already stirred Graves, and he could feel himself hardening inside his pants. He couldn’t go back home like this, not when he barely trusted his own ability to keep his hands off. Something would have to be done before he went back. At least here in the office, he knew he would be undisturbed.

Pushing off the door, Graves shrugged out of his heavy coat and suit jacket, casually draping them over the back of one of the two chairs that sat in front of his desk, rolling up the sleeves of his white silk dress shirt. He loosened the impeccable knot of his tie and dropped heavily into his own chair, letting his head fall back against the top of his seat. One hand settled on the wooden arm of the chair, the other drifting down his torso towards the buckle of his belt. His dark eyes closed, and he gave in to the temptation of fantasy.

Graves was a man of a great imagination, so he did not lack for choices to hasten his release. However, given the stress he’d been under lately, he decided he wanted to indulge a little more than usual. Deft fingers made quick work of the belt, followed by the buttons on his impeccable wool slacks. The fabric was shifted aside, and he dipped his hand in, allowing himself a low groan at the intimate contact. As he began to slowly stroke himself, he let his mind wander back to that morning, and what perhaps he _could_ have done…

Instead of fleeing, perhaps he could have simply vanished away his own clothing, and stepped into the hot spray with Credence. The boy would have stared at him with wide, innocent eyes, stammering some quiet excuse, or apology. He would have stepped directly into his space, one hand flat against the slick tile as the other gently cupped the side of his face. His calloused thumb would trace down the sharp line of his jaw, perhaps a little too severe, but beautiful in its own right, like broken glass on the beach. “Hush, my boy,” he would husk, seeing that flash of hesitant lust, of unsure desire in his coffee dark eyes. “There’s no need for shame here.” He would bring his face close, lips hovering a breath above the boys own parted lips, close enough to hint at contact. “Do you want this?” he would ask, already knowing the answer.

“Yes,” Credence would answer, delicate, inexperienced hands resting feather-light on his hips. Graves would hum softly in the back of his throat before closing the distance between them. The kiss would be electric, a spark from each that ignited into a conflagration instantly. It would start slowly enough, the older man not wanting to frighten the younger man. But passion would soon drive them higher, Graves’ fingers shifting to grip the back of Credence’s head, while his slimmer fingers would tighten on his hips and pull him closer so they pressed into the wall. 

Graves’ thigh would slide between his thighs, gliding along the length of his hard cock. Touched only by himself, so Graves assumed, Credence would buck hard against him, breaking the kiss with a startled cry that would coil at the base of his spine, make him growl in the back of his throat. A beautiful sound, one he wanted more of, Graves would have moved his leg again, and again. Coaxing that sound out of that slim throat. Distracted by the sensations, Credence panting breathlessly as his body was flooded with new feelings, Graves would trace hot kisses back down that jaw, along the line of his exposed neck. His skin would be sweet perhaps, a little salty with sweat that sprung up from the combination of the innocent heat of the shower, and the much darker heat of rising lust. “M-Mr. Graves…” he would whisper, a hint of what he’d heard from the hallway.

“Yes, my boy?” he would ask, breath hot against damp skin that tasted oh so sweet. The hand on the wall would slide down to coast along Credence’s slim side, feeling the sharp cut of each rib beneath the promise of muscle. The boy would fill out in time, but even still, he was a stunning creature. All innocent and untouched sweetness that he wanted to claim for his own. He was not necessarily a possessive man by nature; too many other obligations on his time to bother with it. But something about the boy made his hackles rise at the thought of any hands other than his on that unmarked skin.

“Please…” he would gasp, writhing against the tile wall. The temptation to simply lift him up and take him against the wall would be nearly irresistible, but no. This he would do right.

He could, of course, drag this out, make the boy squirm even more deliciously. But he’d spent so much time the last few weeks imagining this moment that no, he would simply give Credence what he wanted. What he _needed_. What he deserved. So instead, Graves would straighten back up, take his lips for another deep kiss that would sear both of their senses. He would give in to the desire to moan himself, echoing the growing sounds of the younger man beneath his hands, against his skin. His body would roll in a long, sinuous pattern, one rough hand wrapping around both of their cocks.

Credence’s gasped groan would shoot straight to Graves’ cock, which would jump in his hand and make him groan again. “Oh God, Credence,” he would husk, feeling his own tightly-wound control begin to slip. The younger man would be helpless beneath him, hands grasping desperately at his hips to pull him closer, always closer. 

“G-Graves,” his boy would gasp, losing the title in his own unraveling control. He would moan into Graves’ mouth, and thrust into his hand, feeling hard velvet against rough callouses. It wouldn’t take long for him to give in to his pleasure, his release slamming into his thin frame with unexpected force and power. Graves would feel the slick of his cum against his hand, and that sensation combined with the unabashed gasping of his name from those trembling lips would be enough to send him over the edge. He would kiss Credence even harder then, biting at his full lips as he felt his own release splash across that taut, pale belly…

Alone in his office, Graves arched off the seat of his chair as he came hard, eyes wide and seeing only the steamy shower, not the immaculate chrome of his cabinets. His nails dug into the arm of his chair as he let out a shuddering moan, sinking back into the supple leather of his chair and panting with exertion. Sweat beaded on his brow, and he swallowed thickly as he gasped for air. “Well then,” he said into the silence after a long moment. “That ought to do for now.” One fumbling hand plucked his wand off the edge of the desk, and he flicked it quickly. The mess vanished, and his pants even had the courtesy to do themselves up. He smoothed a hand through his hair, settling the strands back to perfection before he rose, dressed, and disapparated in a swirling flash.

He appeared in the living room of his own home. It only took a few heart beats to realize that all was well here. Queenie had stretched out on the couch, her soft blonde hair shimmering in the flickering light of the fireplace. Curled up in the plush armchair, a blanket tucked around him, Credence also slept. Graves didn’t bother to hide the small smile that curled up the corner of his lips at the sight of them; half-empty mugs of cocoa, playing cards, and a bowl of popcorn. Clearly, she had kept him good company.

Graves had the brief thought to wake Queenie so she might return home, but she was obviously comfortable there. Instead, he drew a plush blanket over her, huffing a laugh as she sighed and settled in. He then turned to Credence, who, while asleep, would regret staying there all night. Hesitating only a moment, Graves tucked one arm under the young man’s knees, the other across his back as he hefted him from the chair. Credence was exactly as light as he looked, and curled instantly towards Graves’ broader chest. Catching his breath, giving in to the urge to press a tender kiss to his soft curls, the older wizard carried his young guest to his bed, where he deposited him gently in his bed and tucked the blankets up around him. He settled in with a sigh, and Graves brushed a lock of dark hair back from his forehead before retreating to his own bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed and burying his fingers deep in his dark hair with a low groan.

Temptation was getting stronger. But he would not give in.


	3. First Slip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Graves and Credence give in to the first temptation

Long rays of setting sunlight crested the window sill, gilding the burnished wood of Graves’ apartment with golden light. Usually, Graves kept the blinds closed, thought Credence still couldn’t understand why. While he was at MACUSA, the young man frequently opened them all to let in as much natural light as he possibly could. Sure, the lights inside were sufficient, but there was something uniquely wonderful about letting the outside in. Maybe it had something to do with all of his time spent in the dark of the church, or maybe it was the way that the light looked on all of the beautiful things in Graves’ apartment. Whatever it was, Credence loved it, especially as the sun started to set.

Standing in the kitchen, Credence was busy preparing dinner. The sleeves of his white shirt were rolled up past his elbows, the top few buttons undone. In the several months since moving in with Graves, his black hair had grown out of the juvenile, universally unflattering haircut so black strands curled around his ears. He was even whistling softly, a trick Graves had taught him between magic practice, and reading. It was a wandering tune, his hands moving with a smooth grace that couldn’t be taught.

As he turned his attention to the meat on the stove, there was a pop from the living room, the telltale sound of apparition. Credence glanced up at the sound, smiling a little as he saw Graves step into his line of sight. He swept the heavy black wool and pristine white silk off his shoulders and hung it on the coat rack by the table. One hand unclipped the collar pins he wore while the other loosened his tie with a soft, grateful sigh. “Good evening, Credence,” he called, unaware he was being watched. “It smells amazing in here.” Rolling his head slowly back with a soft groan, he shrugged out of his suit jacket and draped it over the back of a chair before unbuttoning the cuffs of his shirt and rolling the sleeves back.

“Hello, Graves,” Credence answered, a faint smile still on his face. “Thank you. It should be done soon.”

“Anything I can do to help?” Graves wandered into the kitchen, his hands in his pockets as he watched Credence. The younger man’s hands were flawless as they moved, stirring and turning and adding. He leaned over the large pot and inhaled deeply, a thoughtful pucker between his brows. The fading sunlight from the windows cast long shadows across his sharp features, highlighting the lines of his face. Peering curiously over Credence’s shoulder, he too took in a deep breath, only to have it forced unkindly out of his lungs by a playful elbow to the ribs.

“Yes, you can pour some wine,” Credence said as he turned his head to narrow his eyes at the older wizard. “This is my magic, you can just stay out of the way.”

Rubbing his chest ruefully, Graves laughed and held up his hand defensively. “My apologies, chef.” He took one more quick peek at the food before selecting a bottle of red wine from the cupboard. “I still don’t know why you insist on my not helping. I can cook, you know.” Credence made a non-committal sound as he flipped the steaks over. “My cooking is _fine_ , thank you very much.”

Credence glanced over his shoulder, just a hint of a mischievous grin on his face. “Your cooking is fine in the same way that my clothes were fine.”

Graves gasped and put the bottle down more heavily than required. “You wound me, my boy.” He leaned a hip against the counter beside Credence as he shook his head and opened the cupboard for glasses. A flick of his wrist, and the bottle uncorked itself and poured two full glasses. “Your clothing was an aberration against fashion, I still don’t understand how you could stand to wear those things.” He suppressed a shudder at the memory of Credence’s previous clothes; threadbare, and rough to the touch. The very thought of that fabric against his body made his skin crawl, and he took a moment to appreciate what Credence now wore. Updated styling, and much higher quality fabrics, he wore soft silk and wool, which Graves was sure was more comfortable against his skin. Not to mention significantly more flattering. His dark eyes lingered a moment longer than necessary on the open buttons at his throat, following the line of his collar bone. The sudden temptation to trace the line of the fine bone with his fingers nearly got the best of him, and he resorted to picking up his wine glass to give his hand something more appropriate to do.

“My clothes were _functional_.” Without looking, Credence reached over and grabbed his own glass of wine. He wasn’t nearly as experienced as Graves in the ways of wine pairings, but he was learning to appreciate what was good, and what was bad. And very little of what Graves chose was bad. “I need a couple plates.”

Another flick of his wrist, and one plate floated down to the counter beside Credence. His smile widened as he watched, always enjoying the effortless way Graves used magic. It was still so novel to him, an impossible luxury he could watch for hours. On the flip side, it also made him significantly more self-conscious when working with Graves on his own skills, or lack thereof. The older man never made him feel inadequate, but that didn’t stop Credence from fervently wishing he wouldn’t fail quite so often. 

“Unless you’re planning on sharing a plate, we’re going to need two,” Credence said with a raised brow, turning away from the food on the stove and taking a sip of his wine as he arched a brow at Graves. Only a foot away, close enough to touch if he just reached out…

Smiling behind his wine glass, Graves shook his head. “Your turn.” His smile widened as he watched the color fade from Credence’s face. “You can do it. Wand out.”

Swallowing hard, Credence set his glass down and withdrew his slim wand, pale cherry wood with a simple carved grip, from the holster at his hip. He rarely took it out unless instructed to do so by Graves, if only because he was afraid of breaking something on accident. With a nervous glance at the older man, who hadn’t moved in a show of confidence as he continued to slowly sip his wine, Credence pointed his wand at the cupboard and repeated the flicking motion.

Several things happened at once. The cabinet behind Credence flew open with a loud bang, the flames under the grilling steak flared brightly, and the plates behind the still-closed cabinet rattled violently. Credence flinched as a mug flew out of the opened cabinet, narrowing avoiding being cracked in the head with it. It was saved from certain shattering destruction by Graves, who snapped his wrist and detoured the mug into his waiting hand. “Too much,” Graves said with a patient smile as he set the mug down on the counter. “Here.” Still holding his wine glass, the man straightened from the counter and stepped behind Credence. 

His empty hand ghosted along the underside of the younger man’s upraised arm, fingers warm through the fine silk of his shirt. A gentle nudge here, a pull there as he adjusted his form. The warmth of his broader body pressed against Credence’s back, a shift of his hips and knees helping him to find a stronger stance. “There,” Graves whispered into his ear, his voice a rough, warm husk across his skin. Credence barely fought back a shiver, turning his face just a little towards Graves. “Pay attention to what you’re doing, my boy,” came the soft admonishment as his calloused fingers drifted across the back of his hand and shifted his grip on the wand. “Relax. It won’t bite you.”

Credence nodded and tried to let himself mold to what Graves was suggesting. It was, however, remarkably difficult to focus with him so very close. He could feel the warmth of him, smell that familiar musk that was uniquely Graves. It filled his senses, and made it even more difficult to focus. Shaking his head abruptly, he shifted his thoughts back to the low, rumbling cadence of the coaching voice in his ear. “You’re putting too much effort behind it. Remember, the wand amplifies your power, which we’ve already discovered is incredible. It’s a plate, not a mountain. Gentle.” Graves’ hand was tender against his, repeating the soft, sweeping motion. “Try again.” Credence could swear he felt the faintest brush of Graves’ lips against his ear, and struggled to draw a full breath.

“Gentle.” Imitating the easy flow of Graves’ hand, he tried again. This time, the correct door opened, a single plate floating gracefully out and settling on top of its mate on the counter. “I did it!” Credence’s voice was a bright crow as he turned over his shoulder to grin at the man still effectively wrapped around him. His lower lip caught with his teeth, he found himself suddenly nose to nose with Graves, who looked as proud as Credence felt.

“Well done, Credence,” he purred, tilting his head just a fraction. Their breaths mingled in the space between them, a sudden silence descending. Graves could feel his pulse jump, his dark eyes drawn down to that full lip so temptingly restrained by the boy’s teeth in a way he dreamed of doing himself. “I knew you could do it.”

 _Don’t,_ Graves thought to himself. _You can’t. You shouldn’t._ But still he couldn’t bring himself to draw away, instead pulling his hand away from Credence’s to give in to the temptation to touch. A tender brush of his fingertips down the prominent line of his jaw, the pad of his thumb following the bow of his lower lip. With just the faintest tug, he pulled the flesh free, finding it an irresistible shade of red. _Maybe just a taste…_

“Graves…” Credence whispered, the start to a question that he wasn’t sure how to finish. Heart pounding against his ribs, he found it suddenly difficult to draw full breath. Even just the gentle touch along his jaw, a promise of so much, made him shiver and sigh.

“Yes, my boy?” Soft words coiled in the pit of Credence’s belly, and his eyes fluttered closed. “Do you want me to stop?” Without looking, Graves set his wine glass down on the counter and returned his hand to the boy’s narrow hip, pushing just a little to turn him so they faced each other.

“No,” breathed Credence before he had the chance to think. His own dark eyes were locked on Graves’ lips, pulse skipping at the sight of those perfect lips so close to his own.

“Good.” With a quick glance at Credence’s eyes, to assure himself that there was no hesitation there, Graves tipped the taller man’s face down a fraction of an inch before bringing their lips together tenderly. It was sweet and soft, a gentle caress that took Credence’s breath away. Graves felt him tense at first, then melt into him with a quiet hum. The hand on Credence’s hip slid down to rest in the curve of his lower back, feeling his heat through the thin shirt he wore as Graves pulled him closer. 

Slowly, so slowly he deepened the kiss, not wanting to scare him. Just the tip of his tongue brushed against the younger man’s lower lip, drawing a surprised, if pleased, gasp out of him. Graves took advantage of his parted lips and dipped his tongue just inside. Credence hesitated only a brief second before copying the motion, his brow puckered with intense concentration. The hand that cupped his sharp jaw drifted back to weave into the soft black hair at the back of his head as Graves felt himself start to fall into the sensations. He pivoted the both of them and gently backed Credence into the counter. The soft grunt he made drew a responding growl out of Graves, and he pushed a little harder at the feeling of Credence against him, giving in to him. Both of Credence’s hands gripped the back of Graves’ jacket, holding onto him as if for dear life.

Every little sound pushed Graves further, made him crave more. Credence sounded so remarkable, so much better here against him than through the walls of the apartment, the clandestine eavesdropping that only served to drive him crazy. And to feel that slim, beautiful body against his, so responsive to even the simplest touch, was better than he had imagined. “Merlin’s beard, Credence,” Graves rasped as he broke the kiss for a desperate gasp of air. “You’re beautiful.” The hand on his lower back shifted back to his hip and pressed him harder against the edge of the counter, their bodies connected from shoulder to knee. Trailing hot kisses along his jaw, Graves moved to the graceful line of his neck, tasting the sweet salt of his skin.

Credence felt like he should say something in response, return the compliment, something. But each touch of Graves’ hand, craved for so long, stole his ability to think. All he could manage was the barest of whimpers, his fingers shifting and gripping Graves’ shoulders. He instinctively tipped his head to the side, opening up his pale flesh to more kisses, and the occasional sharp nip that made him squirm. “Oh sweet God, Credence,” husked Graves, who froze against him. His fingers tensed, digging into tender flesh and trembling with the effort of maintaining control. “Don’t do that.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Graves.” Instinctively falling back on his title, Credence fell instantly still. His breath caught in his throat, eyes wide. “Did I do something wrong?”

It took several moments for Graves to find his voice again, taken aback by just how much he liked the use of his title under these circumstances. When he did, it was with a low rasp that shook with unfamiliar need. “No, my boy. You did something… _very_ right.” Sharp teeth dragged down the strap of muscle along his neck, surprising a moan from Credence. “Yes, let me hear you, beautiful…” His words were unsteady as he fingers tugged at the hem of Credence’s shirt, seeking the soft skin he knew was beneath it.

Instantly, Credence dropped a hand down to grip Graves’ wrist hard. “No,” he said with a shake of his head. The word was like a bucket of cold water thrown on Graves, and he stepped back immediately. One hand clenched into a tight fist, knuckles white as he dragged the other down his face, feeling the rasp of stubble against his palm. Credence’s eyes widened, and he blinked as he realized what he’d said. “No, Graves, I meant—“

“No.” Graves’ answer was fast and sharp, and he took another step back. He drew in a slow breath that ached in his chest that was now tight. “No, we shouldn’t have…I shouldn’t have…” Unaccustomed to feeling so out of sorts, he closed his eyes against the sight of a flushed, panting Credence, the flicker of his pulse clearly visible in the thin skin of his throat. “I was out of line. I apologize.” Graves pivoted on his heel and almost stalked out of the kitchen. “The steaks are done.” There was a pause, then the sound of Graves’ bedroom door closing.

Confused, Credence turned to look at the stove, and nearly yelped. The steaks were past done, and he scrambled to clear them off the grill. Once they were set aside, and everything was turned off, he stepped to the side and leaned heavily on the counter with both hands, arms shaking as he stared at the marble. His heart still raced, skin aching for that touch again. Why had he stopped?

And how could he get him to do it again?


	4. Shattered Mirrors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even the strong have their moments of weakness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angsty fluff. Because I don't know how to do anything else. But I promise there's some payoff. Some. <3 Comments, as always, are appreciated!

Several weeks passed after the incident in the kitchen. Credence desperately wanted to talk to Graves about it, but any attempt at the topic was met with immediate and unbreakable silence. More often than not, Graves would remove himself entirely, either by claiming work, or simply going to his room. After a few tries, Credence gave up and did his best to forget about the whole thing. 

This was next to impossible, as more than once he found himself recalling the incident moment by moment; the way Graves tasted, the coaxing pressure of his lips and the faint callouses on his fingers as they brushed over the bare skin of his hip for only the briefest of seconds. Alone late at night, he would occasionally let himself continue, imagining how it could have gone. Recognizing that his imagination and knowledge was woefully uneducated, Credence rarely made it far. But the memories kept him company at night as he lay in his bed just across the hall. 

Eventually, things between them settled back to normal. A return to routine helped that; Graves often left early in the morning, leaving Credence to his own devices for the day as the hunt for Grindelwald continued. He did his best to fill his hours until Graves returned in the evening for dinner and magic lessons. Credence felt some comfort when that normalcy returned. 

One afternoon, Credence returned from his daily walk of the city and trip to the market for food for dinner. Balancing the bags in his hands, the instant he walked into the apartment, he knew something was different. Standing frozen by the door, he strained to listen, to pick up any signs of a disturbance. Only silence met him, so he started to look over the room carefully. The blinds were still open, late afternoon sunlight casting a warm glow that Credence usually found comforting, but now seemed...cold, somehow. Inadequate to the depth of darkness that clung to the air. 

There. Graves' coat was tossed haphazardly across the back of the couch, and his suit jacket was in a pile on the floor at the end of the hall, looking like it was discarded in haste. Graves was extremely intentional with his clothing, so the sight of it in such a state immediately worried Credence. "Graves?" His voice was a little unsteady as he set the bags down on the coffee table. "Are you here?" 

More silence met his query, which did nothing to settle his nerves. Credence bent and picked up the coat from the floor, automatically checking it for damage or blood. He found nothing out of the ordinary, so reached to hang it on the back of a chair when he spotted Graves' vest on the floor a few feet down the hall. The jacket was dropped hastily as the young man hurried down the hall. "Graves!" He called, now more noticeably concerned. 

"I'm fine," came the sudden, unexpectedly harsh voice of Graves. Credence froze in his tracks, brow furrowed at the sharpness of his tone. 

"Where are you?" He ventured cautiously, waiting a few heartbeats before he continued down the hall, slower now. 

"I said I'm fine, Credence," Graves repeated. It sounded like he was in the bathroom, voice strained to the point of breaking. There was a soft tinkling sound, like tiny bells, following by a heavy, unsteady sigh. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you." 

"You didn't," he lied as he stepped into the doorway of the bathroom. He was greeted by the sight of Graves leaning heavily on the sink, his fingers clutching the edges of the pristine porcelain. Shoulders impossibly tense, head bowed. Bright red blood slicked the back of his hand, a rhythmic _plip, plip, plip_ as drops splashed onto the tile floor by his foot. 

The mirror that hung on the wall was completely shattered. 

Shards of glass glimmered on the back of the counter and all over the floor. From the doorway, Credence could see a few fragments jutting up from between his knuckles. The light reflected off the jagged edges, distorted by the smear of blood across the glass. "Graves, what happened?" Panic faded down to genuine concern as Credence stepped into the room, taking in the sight of him. Usually polished to perfection, now he looked disheveled; his dark hair was tussled like fingers had been run through it and gripped the strands tight, his tie loose and collar askew. 

"Don't," Graves snapped, turning his head over his shoulder to glare at him. For the first time, Credence ignored him, his step stumbling only briefly before he approached the sink. The refusal to listen took Graves by surprise, and he straightened as if to pull away. "Dammit, Credence, I said I'm fine." Exhaustion laced the irritation that colored his voice. 

"Yes, you did," Credence said as he stepped up beside the sink. "But you're bleeding, which by default means you're not fine. Let me see." Holding out a hand in invitation, he squashed the urge to simply reach out and take his hand. 

"You realize I can tend this with magic," Graves answered, his arm tense as he hesitated. Credence could see the fight behind his dark eyes, though what exactly he was warring with himself over he couldn't quite tell. He did notice, however, the way that his gaze kept being drawn back to the shattered looking glass, as if he couldn't stop himself. 

"Yes, I do,” Credence said firmly, drawing his attention back. His voice dropped then, softer, soothing. “But you don't have to. Let me take care of you, for once. Please." His hand inched closer, fingers reaching for his wrist. When Graves didn't pull away, Credence closed the distance and tenderly lifted his hand. His blood was warm and wet against his fingers, but the younger man didn't seem at all bothered by it. "I'll need to pull the glass out before I can bandage it. Would you rather stay in here, or move somewhere more comfortable?" With something to do with his hands, a surprising air of calm control surrounded Credence. His dark eyes were sharp, his voice soft but steady. 

"Well, since I'm still dripping blood on the floor, why don't we stay where clean up is easiest?" Graves offered, his voice a little sharper than necessary. Head still tilted down, Credence shifted his gaze up to pin him with a flat stare through thick lashes. Something about that look made Graves' gut twist, not entirely unpleasantly, and he clenched his jaw. “Here is fine,” he said tightly. 

Without a word, Credence pushed gently on Graves' hand, guiding him backwards until he sat on the lip of the tub. "Don’t move." Turning away, Credence went to the medicine cabinet and emerged with a simple first aid kit, an insistence on his part in case he'd hurt himself while Graves wasn't around to patch him up. It was fairly basic, but had what he needed. With the box balanced on the edge of the tub beside Graves' hip, he sank to his knees between his feet and took Graves’ bloodied hand again. Tender hands wiped away most of the blood with a rag before he set about plucking out pieces of glass with tweezers, apologizing under his breath at the surprised hiss as he nudged a shard of glass that pressed against bone. He did not, however, ask any questions about what happened, for which Graves was intensely grateful. It was enough of a struggle to stop the shaking, and if asked anything about it, he wasn't sure he'd be able to hold it together. 

Credence worked in silence, the only sound that of the glass landing in a small cup on the floor. Graves watched the young man work, unable to keep himself from studying the fine lines of his face as he focused on his task. A curl of black hair fell across his forehead, which he continually puffed at with growing irritation. An amused smile lifted the corner of Graves' mouth, and he finally used his uninjured hand to tuck the lock back behind Credence's ear. The tip of his fingers drifted down the curve of his ear, noting the flutter of his eyelashes, the tilt of his head into the touch. "Thank you, Credence," he whispered, his hand nestled at the crook of his long neck and too-thin shoulder. 

A gentle smile lifted Credence's lips as he glanced up. His fingers were cool, working quickly and with surprising skill. Wrapping the last of the bandage around his knuckles, Credence turned his hand over a few times before nodding. "There. That ought to do. At least until you decide you’re fed up with it, and heal yourself." His grip shifted, and he lifted Graves' hand to his lips for a soft kiss against the gauze. His lips were warm, and they lingered a moment. 

He glanced up at Graves again, as if seeking approval or rejection. Not finding anything definitive, Credence decided to take the initiative. With a gentle nudge, he turned Graves' hand over to expose his wrist. Credence could see his pulse flickering beneath the thin skin, and he pressed his lips against the blue vein there. Graves drew in a slow hiss through his nose, the hand on Credence's shoulder tightening a fraction. "Credence." There was the tiniest fraction of a waiver in his voice, and he cut himself off abruptly. 

"I'm sorry.” Credence dropped Graves' hand instantly, feeling a hot blush sting his cheeks as he pushed to his feet. The hand on his shoulder slid down his arm, catching him by the wrist and stopping his turn. Dark eyes followed the path of those fingers, watching as they wrapped around his bony joint, warm and rough on him. 

"No, that's not..." Cursing his weakness, Graves, pressed his lips together in a tight line. Credence could feel the tremble against his arm, watching the older man's bowed head. When nothing more was said, he stepped between Graves' legs, knees brushing against his inner thigh. He lifted his free hand slowly, hesitating only briefly before he threaded his fingers through Graves' hair. It was an innocent gesture, but the intimacy took Graves by surprise. The older man released a shaky sigh, eyes sliding closed as he fought back an unbidden sound in the back of his throat. "Credence..." His voice hitched on the younger man's name, and once again he stopped. 

"Shhh," Credence whispered, repeating the motion and ignoring the huffed laugh at the stolen sound. The dark strands were softer than he'd imagined, sliding between his fingers like silk. His coffee brown eyes watched the black hair ripple over his hands, in sharp contrast with his pale skin. On the third pass, his hand paused at the back of Graves' head, and he bent down to press a soft kiss to the top of his head. He heard a soft rumble from Graves, and couldn’t stop a small smile. 

Graves’ uninjured hand lifted from his lap to rest on Credence’s lower back. His hand fit there comfortably, like that was where it belonged. The hollow of his back was exactly the right size for Graves’ palm, and he instinctively pressed against him to bring his body closer. Now wasn’t the right time, but he couldn’t resist the pull of him. He could feel more than hear the low purr from Credence’s chest as his hand moved in a slow circle against him. The faint sound made something heat in his chest, and Graves rose slowly. 

Their bodies scant inches apart, Credence swore he could feel Graves’ pulse, his own heart rate increasing suddenly. He let his hand slide out of Graves’ hair, settling instead on the back of his head. It fit perfectly, his long fingers toying with the short silver strands. “Graves, I…” Credence broke eye contact briefly, licking his lips quickly and drawing in a steadying breath. He opened his mouth again to speak, but instead he leaned forward for an awkward kiss. His mouth was tense, trembling with uncertainty. 

It was endearing, and Graves sank into it willingly. His fingers tightened on Credence’s lower back, drawing him closer so their bodies molded together. Now there was no hesitation, no second guessing. They fit like puzzle pieces, Credence’s sharp edges to Graves’ strong curves. Intensity and passion burned hot at the base of Credence’s spine, his breath hitching as the kiss deepened. Their tongues danced, and Graves nipped lightly at his lower lip. His breath hissed through his nose, and he broke away with a soft moan. “Graves, please…” 

“Please what?” Graves coaxed, his lips moving along the line of Credence’s jaw. “Ask, my boy…” Remembering how responsive Credence was before, Graves pressed hot kisses along the column of his throat, sharp teeth nipping at the thin skin. Credence’s breath caught in his throat, a moan stumbling across his lips as his fingers gripped at Graves’ jacket. 

The question startled Credence, and he wet his lips with a pointed tongue. Words tried to form in his mind, but he couldn’t get them to come together. “I don’t…I don’t know, Graves. Just…please…” One arm wrapped around the older man’s waist as his other hand tightened one the back of his head and tried to pull him closer. 

“Shhh.” The sound was so much more natural coming from Graves, and it sent a thrill down Credence’s spine and made him groan. Graves growled in response and pushed against Credence until he backed him into the edge of the sink. Already struggling to maintain his control, the addictive, pliable nature of the boy pinned against him wasn’t helping. “I’ll teach you, my boy.” His bandaged fingers brushed against the knot of his tie, tugging it loose and trailing along the line of buttons. “May I?” he asked cautiously, lips now tracing the line of Credence’s collar. Again Credence paused. His breath escaped in a soft whimper, and after several agonizing heartbeats, he nodded. “Let me hear you, Credence,” Graves whispered, lips sucking a purple bruise into the pale skin. “I need to hear your voice.” 

“Y-yes, please…please teach me, Graves.” Credence’s voice was thready and uneven, and it made Graves’ skin heat. His hips rolled forward against Credence’s narrow body, and Graves savored the way he felt the younger man squirm against him. He could feel the tell-tale signs of a ridge beginning to form against his own thigh, and his whole body shook. 

“Merlin’s beard, my boy, you’re a whole new kind of vice,” Graves husked. His fingers made quick work of the buttons on Credence’s dress shirt, parting the soft fabric down the middle of his chest. The skin that was revealed was only a shade or two darker than the shirt itself. Prominent ridges marked the cut of his ribs, the tips of Graves’ fingers following the line of his sharp collar bone. “So beautiful, Credence, and you don’t even see it…” His lips followed his fingers, finding the hollow of his throat. Salt and sweet mingle on his tongue as it dipped into the divot there, the vibrations of Credence’s low whimper dancing across his lips. 

Both of Credence’s hands dropped to Graves’ hips and clung tight. His fingers tightened almost convulsively as Graves’ lips continued to toy with his collar bone, goosebumps rippling out from the point of intimate contact. One hand snaked up Credence’s back to weave into the soft strands and tug just a little. The pressure dragged a delicious, shattered groan from the thin throat of Credence that skittered across Graves’ ears and chimed softly… 

Like broken glass. 

Abruptly Graves stopped. His lips still poised over Credence’s throat, he froze hard, muscles tense and brittle. The change was so sudden that Credence almost stumbled even though he didn’t move. “Graves?” he asked after several long moments of silence. “Are you alright?” 

“We can’t do this.” His words were fast, quiet, and razor sharp. They stole Credence’s breath, and he tugged hard against Graves’ hips as he tried to pull away. 

“No.” Credence shook his head and made the silky strands of his hair dance across the back of Graves’ hand. He tipped his head down to look at the top of Graves’ head, still bowed at his neck. “Please, don’t go.” 

“Credence, we can’t…I can’t…” But still Graves didn’t move, one hand fluttering against the gentle curve of Credence’s narrow waist. The fingers of his other hand twisted in the black silk of his hair to hide the tremble. “It’s not me.” 

That startled him. Credence tipped his head down and kissed the top of Graves’ head again, lips lingering against the crown of his head. “What do you mean?” 

Graves was quiet for a long time. If he said nothing, maybe Credence wouldn’t hear the shake in his voice. If he didn’t move, maybe he could keep his feet. But he owed the boy an answer. “I don’t know if you…if anyone _sees_ me. I don’t--” He stopped again, unable to resist the urge to press another kiss to Credence’s neck, savoring the way he sighed. “I look in the mirror, and it’s my face, but it’s not… _mine_. Someone else… _he_ wore it for too long, and no one noticed.” His hand latched onto Credence’s side, and the man against the sink thought perhaps he wasn’t the only one holding on for dear life. 

Credence kissed Graves’ head again, tightening his hands against his hips. “I see you.” Graves huffed a hot breath against his skin, and it was a deliberate struggle not to get distracted. 

"Do you?" Graves' words were laced with bitterness that made Credence flinch, but he didn't let go. "It wasn't me who approached you. It wasn't me who seduced you. It was my face, but it wasn't _me_. How...is it _me_ you want, or _him_?" His hands pulled away from Credence then, and he took a step back. The younger man was reluctant to let him go, but he didn't resist, instead leaning the heels of his palms on the cold counter to steady himself. Graves turned his back to the mirror and dragged his uninjured hand through his hair again, absently aware that Credence's fingers had felt much better than his own. 

"I want you." Credence's words were quiet, but fierce. Enough so that Graves turned over his shoulder to look at him. Shoulders hunched, black hair curling around his angular, pale face that the older man couldn't get enough of, he looked down at the tiles beneath his shoes. Plush lips, still red from their kisses, were set in a certain line, and after a moment, he shifted his gaze up to look at Graves through long, thick lashes. The look in his eyes, so full of conviction and certainty, stole Graves' breath, and he couldn't look away even if he wanted to. "It wasn't you who lied to me. It wasn't you who hurt me. He had your face, but not your heart." 

Once again the silence dragged between them. Credence worried that he'd said too much, or said the wrong thing. He dropped his gaze again, unable to maintain the intense connection for long. Just before he opened his mouth to apologize, Graves crossed the distance between them and wrapped both arms tight around him, capturing his words with a kiss. Graves' lips fluttered against his, holding something back. "Are you sure?" He asked when he finally broke the kiss for a gasp of air. 

"Yes, Graves," Credence agreed instantly, leaning back in for a second kiss as he gripped the back of Graves' dress shirt tightly. They both sank into the kiss, tongues and lips dancing as the heat between them built fast. Graves could feel himself hardening in his dress pants, and couldn't resist grinding slowly against Credence's thin hips. 

With a great deal of self control, and a slightly ragged moan, Graves disentangled himself from Credence, doing his best to ignore the dejected whimper from beneath him. "Not here," he said with a thick voice. "Not like this. You deserve...so much better than a fast fuck against the bathroom sink." 

Struggling to catch his breath, especially after that particularly visceral image, Credence nodded unsteadily. A strangled "When?" was all he could manage. 

Graves actually had to think that one through. He wanted to do this right, to charm and woo Credence. The fact that he was clearly a sure thing did not change his opinion in the matter, and as badly as he did, in fact, want to do exactly what he'd described was making the need to take things slowly extremely difficult. "I don't want to rush you, Credence. You've never done...any of this. We'll take it slow. Tonight. Dinner, and then...we'll see where the night takes us, alright?" 

The noise in the back of Credence's throat was frustrated, but he knew better than to push Graves. "Tonight, then." He pulled his lower lip into his mouth and worried at the flesh between his teeth. "...Graves, will you take me dancing?" 

The innocence of the request made Graves grin, and he leaned in to brush that sweet lock of black hair back from his forehead again. "Anything for you, my boy. Dinner and dancing tonight. It's a date."


	5. Date Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Graves has a beautiful first date planned for Credence, but things don't go quite to plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter! It's long, but (hopefully) worth it. And even still, I can't seem to manage smut without angst, apologies. Comments, as always, are appreciated. <3

"Are you ready, Credence?" Graves waited in the sitting room, pacing somewhat anxiously across the hardwood floors as he waited for Credence to finish getting dressed. Confident in his own wardrobe choices, it hadn't taken Graves long at all to dress for their evening, simply switching to a vest cut from finer silk wool, and a fresh shirt. He kept himself from fidgeting by tucking both hands into the deep pockets of his long wool coat, his soft blue scarf tucked just under the collar and hanging down both sides. It had been a long time since he'd felt so...nervous about something as simple as a date, yet here he was. 

Back in his bedroom, Credence stood in front of the full length mirror and stared. Several months prior, Graves had _insisted_ on replacing the threadbare clothes that he'd lived his life in. This had included everything from daily wear to formal wear. Not entirely sure of just how fancy this place was that he was being taken, Credence had done his best to pull together something he thought would work with Graves' usual attire. Nice wool slacks, a trim black vest with dark silver thread shot through to catch the light at just the right angle over a soft, nearly translucent white linen shirt, and a well-fitted black blazer with just the barest hint of a charcoal grey pinstripe. Everything fit him impeccably, and Credence couldn't help but appreciate the way he looked. 

Now if he could just get this tie to work properly, he'd be fine. 

Credence had always worn a tie, but the one he had was old, having been worn for so many years that it almost tied itself. This new tie was made of finer material, and as such was much slipperier. On top of that, he was highly aware of just how well Graves tied his tie, and this was downright sloppy. With an irritated huff, Credence stepped out of his room and into the sitting room. "This tie just isn't coming out right," he muttered, eyes on the black fabric that continued to slither from between his fingers. 

Graves suddenly found it difficult to swallow as his eyes tracked the long, lean line of Credence's body. While he knew what the boy felt like against him, had nearly memorized the feel of him beneath his hands, there was something uniquely breathtaking about his unusual beauty when so well dressed. His soft black hair hung around his face in untidy waves, blurring the sharp lines of his face and the frustrated pout of his full lips. 

"Let me help," Graves offered with a rough husk, the sound of his voice drawing Credence's attention up. Stepping into his space, Graves gently pulled the tie from his fumbling fingers and set about tying it correctly. A simple flick of his wand would have set it to rights, but he was unable to resist the quiet intimacy of tying Credence's tie for him. His fingers were quick and skilled, knuckles occasionally brushing against the center of his chest, warm through the thin shirt. 

"There." Smoothing the tie down and tucking it beneath the lines of Credence's vest, Graves watched his hand travel down his narrow chest a moment before he looked up and made eye contact. A beautiful blush stained the cut of his high cheekbones, and he ran the pad of his thumb along the ridge of it. Credence shivered and closed his eyes, tilting his head into the contact just slightly. "I have something for you," Graves whispered, forcing himself to take his hands back and step away. He returned with a small black box, a shimmering silver bow wrapped around it. 

"You..." Credence took the box almost reverently, fingers plucking at the ribbon. "You didn't have to." 

"No, I didn't," Graves agreed with a smug smile as he tucked his hands back into his pockets. "But I wanted to. Open it." After a brief pause, Credence tugged at the end of the ribbon, the silver sparkle melting away to drape over his thin wrist. He pulled the top of the box aside, using the tip of a finger to push the thin crepe paper up. Beneath it lay an exquisite cream scarf with a faint shimmering detail of delicate whorls and flowers. Credence traced the petals of one of the flowers, the fabric shifting like water at his touch. Graves' smile warmed, and he reached into the box to draw it out and drape the scarf around Credence's neck. "There we are." His hands smoothed down both long tails, coming to a stop just at Credence's waist. 

"Graves, I couldn't possibly--" 

"Yes you can," the older man interrupted smoothly. "I've been meaning to give it to you for some time, but hadn't yet come up with a good reason. A first date seems like the perfect opportunity. Far better than flowers at any rate." Graves took the box from Credence and set it aside as he stepped back to take in the whole of him. "Yes. That will do very nicely." His eyes lingered on their way back up to his face, where Graves found that his blush was deepening. "Are you ready?" He asked again. 

Anxiety flared in Credence's gut, and he looked down at his shoes as he toyed with the end of the scarf. It wasn't that he didn't want to go. Quite the opposite, in fact, he was looking forward to their night out. However, there was one glaring problem. "Graves...I don't know how to dance." 

This fact didn't surprise the older wizard, who simply shrugged his shoulders. "So I'll teach you. It's not a problem, Credence." He noted the continued reticence, and stepped back into Credence's space to draw his attention up. "Would you like me to teach you before we go?" 

"Yes please," breathed Credence, relief evident in his voice. There was something utterly unsettling about the idea of learning how to dance in public. Especially when he had absolutely no frame of reference. 

"Of course, my boy. All you have to do is ask." Shrugging out of his long coat, Graves floated the garment over to the coat stand across the room, flicking his opposite wrist to bring the radio to life. A classic tune that Credence couldn't quite place was playing, and it brightened the light in Graves' eyes. "Ah, good. A simple one. Come here." Graves extended his hand to Credence expectantly, one brow raised. There was no hesitation from the younger man as he placed his slimmer hand in Graves' rougher one, once again marveling at how warm it was in comparison to his own chilled skin. With practiced ease, Graves guided Credence into a close, firm hold; their joined hands raised to shoulder height, the slightly shorter wizard guided Credence's other hand up to rest on his shoulder. His own hand dropped down to the small of the younger man's back and pulled their bodies close, now joined at the hip. A soft gasp escaped Credence's lips, and a faint blush started to rise on his cheeks. 

"Isn't this...awfully close?" He asked nervously, though made no move to put any space between them. Not that he could have, with the firm pressure of Graves' hand at his lower back. Their faces were close enough together that Credence could feel the heat from his skin, apprehension at such proximity making every nerve jump. 

"Yes. That is the point of dancing." Graves' voice was a low purr that ghosted over Credence's ear and coiled at the base of his spine in ways the younger man was entirely unfamiliar with. It made him squirm a little, as if trying to escape the sensation. The fingers on his lower back gripped suddenly, pressing their bodies tighter together. "Please. Don't do that." Tension was thick in his voice, and he had to clear his throat. 

"I'm sorry, Graves," Credence automatically answered, falling still and settling against him. 

"No, it's not...it's just very distracting." There was a moment's pause, then Graves regained control of himself, and the directionality of his blood flow, and shook his head to clear it. "Right. Your job is very easy, Credence. Just follow my lead. Do you think you can do that?" With their faces side by side, Graves couldn't see Credence's expression. He could, however, read his apprehension in his body, trembling like a frightened rabbit against him. "It's just us here, Credence. No need to impress anyone. Just follow my body, alright? When I pull on your hand, come towards me. When I push, step back." He accompanied each instruction with the movement, feeling the young man move with him just as he was told. "Good boy," he whispered, unable to stop the pet name, the phrase he wished most to moan into the sheets, from slipping lose. 

_Not helping your case here,_ he scolded himself as he felt his arousal shift again. But really, what else did Graves expect by having Credence pressed so close to him like this? The scent of him filled his nostrils; clean and fresh, and just a little warm. Like freshly laundered sheets hung out in the sun. 

As close as they were, there was no way for Graves to miss the shudder that raced down Credence’s spine. A low sound rumbled in his chest, and he instantly knew that same vibration filled the boy’s narrow chest. “Listen to the music.” His words drifted beneath the soft melody, adding a depth and a warmth that matched their rising body heat. “Feel it in your bones, let it move you.” Gentle nudges and tugs with their joined hands, an adjustment of pressure on his low back, and Graves guided Credence around the living room. “Good, very good.” 

Credence’s heart pounded in his chest as they danced together. He found it easier to follow Graves if he closed his eyes; he thought less that way. His feet stumbled less, and he was able to find the flow. At the quiet compliment, Credence turned his face a little, brushing their cheeks together. “Thank you.” 

That incidental contact, paired with another gentle roll of Credence’s hips, was just the tipping point for Graves. He drew in a slow, tight breath through his nose and took a leap. With a bump of his hip, he spun Credence away from him, deeply enjoying the surprised smile that lit his face. A quick flick of his wrist, and he drew the younger man back to him with another spin. The momentum carried him just past Graves’ body, and he tipped him back into a dip. High cheekbones bright with a flush just begged for the gentle caress of his thumb. Full lips were barely parted with a quiet gasp, and at this range, the older man could see Credence’s pupils widening, black overtaking deep chocolate brown. One heartbeat, two, then Graves leaned down and kissed him. 

It was a slow kiss, burning with promise and a need long banked. Strong arms tightened around Credence’s slim body, feeling him first tense, then settle into the embrace. Their hands came unlinked, and the younger man gripped at Graves’ suit jacket, clinging to him as he returned the kiss with intense, if unpracticed, fervor. It was intoxicating, the way those plush lips opened to him, the tip of his tongue darting forward before retreating in an unsure tease. Graves’ own tongue chased after it, exploring the depths of Credence’s mouth. A soft sigh escaped Credence’s lips, and the older wizard straightened suddenly, crowding the younger man back against the wall. One arm still around his waist, Graves cupped the side of Credence’s face with his other hand, thumb tracing the line of his jaw as he deepened the kiss. 

Credence was immediately responsive to every touch and shift, eyes fluttering shut as he lost himself in the sensation. He suddenly felt breathless, warm from the inside out as his back hit the wall. The contact started a gasp out of him, gripping harder to the jacket while his other arm wrapped around Graves’ shoulders. Pinned as he was, his body responded without him, rolling against the warmth that pressed against him. The movement dragged a low growl from Graves, who nipped lightly at his lower lip. A shiver raced down Credence’s spine, and he broke the kiss with a breathless, “Graves…” 

With his head tipped back, this gave Graves the access he wanted to the boy’s delicate neck. His hot lips kissed down the column of his throat, teeth biting lightly, then his tongue swiping over to soothe the sting. The sound of his name from that perfect mouth send a thrill through Graves, and he rocked his hips in return, discovering firming flesh against his thigh. “You like this, my boy?” he whispered, feeling the edges of his control fray far faster than he would have preferred. His hand drifted down the side of his neck, a subtle twist of his fingers letting a trickle of magic loosen that tie he’d just so meticulously tied. The top two buttons slipped open and exposed that arch of pale skin, the cut of his sharp collar bone that Graves so longed to trace with his tongue. He did just that now, lips resting on his flickering pulse point and feeling the skip. “You like it when I touch you?” His voice was a whisper, a brush against Credence’s sensitive skin. 

“Y-yes,” panted Credence, silently thankful for the wall behind him to help him keep his feet. Each kiss and caress that moved down his neck at a torturous rate made it harder for him to think, to breathe. He never wanted the feeling to stop, the pulsing in the tips of his fingers and the thrumming of his nerves to be touched everywhere. “Don’t…don’t stop…” 

“Oh, I’ve no plans to stop, my boy,” Graves purred. Letting the magic fade, his fingers took over where it left off and made quick work of the next several buttons. The tips of his fingers teased along the line of his collar bone, followed by the wet heat of his tongue. “You are too delicious to resist.” 

That kick started Credence’s brain, and he suddenly pushed against Graves. “W-wait, Graves…what about dinner?” 

Graves froze at the resistance, then smiled against Credence’s chest. He pressed a lingering kiss to his skin before pulling away and standing to his full height. With the boy propped up against the wall, Graves was just slightly taller than him. A thumb against his chin tipped Credence’s head back down, and his dark eyes opened slowly. The sight of his blow pupils made Graves groan a little, and he brought their lips together for another searing kiss that left them both breathless when he finally broke away. “Dinner. Yes. We were going to…” But he couldn’t finish the sentence before he leaned in for another kiss. Damn it, he couldn’t keep his hands off him. 

It seemed Credence had the same issue. Both hands dropped down and gripped Graves’ perfectly pressed lapels, wrinkling them as he tugged him closer. The heat between them was addictively new, drawing him like a moth to a flame that he knew would consume him if he touched it. That didn’t stop him from trying, unsure as he was. Graves found it intoxicating, pressing him harder against the wall. This time, Credence broke the kiss, reveling in the soft whimper that sounded unintentional. “Do we have to…?” he started to ask, shifting his gaze up from Graves’ kiss-swollen lips, to his dark eyes. High on endorphins and arousal, Credence couldn’t stop himself. “Your eyes look like whiskey in firelight.” 

“Never took you for a poet, Credence,” Graves breathed, allowing himself a huffed laugh that was swallowed by another kiss. He tried to stifle a groan, but the sound snuck loose to blend with Credence’s whimper. “God, my boy, I’ll stop if you ask, but…” 

“Don’t you dare,” Credence gasped, jerking on Graves’ jacket to pull him closer. The older wizard tried to laugh, but the sound came out as a low growl instead. 

“Well, when you put it like that…” Graves’ fingers made quick work of the rest of Credence’s buttons, tugging loose his shirt so it hung open. He pulled back, ignoring the gasping, dejected moan that shuddered from Credence as he took a moment to simply look. The younger man was slim, but put together beautifully. Thin, porcelain skin overlaid ivory bone he could almost see. The promise of lithe muscle moved with each struggling breath, and Graves let both hands trace the lines of him. “You are…magnificent,” he whispered, feeling his pulse pound in the tips of his fingers. 

A blush burned across Credence’s cheeks and down his neck. He could feel Graves’ ravenous eyes on him like a third hand, just as hot and real as his wand-calloused fingers were. Embarrassment and arousal warred for attention, but lust finally won out. He writhed under the touch, not knowing what to do with his body, or what he wanted. “Please…” 

“Hush,” Graves purred as his fingers trailed along the line of Credence’s slacks, toying with the faint trail of hairs that disappeared into his pants. He could see the outline of his hard shaft straining against the zipper, and another low groan snuck free of Graves' throat. A quick flick of his thumb, and the top button came loose, his fingers working the zipper down. "Do you trust me?" Dark eyes tore away from the enticing sight of his fingers dipping just inside Credence's soft pants, meeting with the lust-blown pupils of the younger man. He watched him nod, and shook his own head in response. "Use your words, Credence. I need to hear you say it before I do anything more." 

Words. God dammit, how could Graves want him to use _words_ right now? Credence groaned in frustration, but after a long moment, swallowed hard. "Yes, Graves. I trust you." 

That was all he needed. With a strangled gasp, Graves leaned back in and captured Credence's soft lips with a hard kiss. Fingers still just inside the waistband of his pants, the older man let the kiss linger, let it heat between them before breaking away. "Come with me. I'm not doing this here." Ignoring Credence's moan of protest, he pulled away and laced their fingers together to draw him away from the wall. "I told you, I'm doing this right. And since you've insisted on derailing my ability to properly charm you at dinner, I refuse to lose this." 

Given a moment to breathe, Credence was able to think clearly enough to laugh at Graves' irritation. "I'd apologize, but I'm not really sorry for it," he said as he was pulled down the hall. 

"You shouldn't be, I'm just a stubborn bastard who is used to getting what he wants. Wait here." Releasing Credence's hand briefly, Graves pivoted and kissed him hard again, growling in faint annoyance as he pulled away. "Merlin's beard I can't...just wait." He stepped into his bedroom, closing the door behind him and leaving the younger man somewhat baffled and alone in the hallway. The sound of the music drifted from the living room, and he swallowed hard, adjusting his clothes a bit and toying with the end of the scarf. Less than a minute passed before the door opened again, and Graves stepped back out. He still wore most of his clothes, though he'd shed the scarf, and the top half of his buttons were undone, revealing a peak of tanned skin and a faint scattering of silvered chest hair. One hand extended, his eyes were darkened with a need that matched Credence's, his full lips turned up in a bit of a smile. "Come here, my boy." 

Without hesitation, Credence placed his hand in Graves' and followed him in. He'd never been into this room, only seen glimpses of it as he passed down the hall. As with the rest of the house, it was all dark woods and burnished brass accents, with two dark leather stuffed chairs near a corner bookshelf, and a massive bed in the center of the room with a beautifully carved wooden headboard. There was a letter writing desk in one corner, and a large wardrobe with a full length mirror. The room fairly glowed with the light of what must have been a hundred flickering white candles. Every flat surface was covered with them, and just as many floated in the air, bobbing softly on an unfelt breeze. "I love magic," he breathed suddenly, heart skipping in his chest. This admission startled a chuckled out of Graves, and he tugged on Credence's hand to pull them chest to chest, wrapping his other arm around his lower back. His large hand splayed up along his spine, feeling the gentle curve of it through his thin silk shirt. Credence shivered at the tender contact and pressed closer. "You didn't have to...thank you, Graves." 

"You're right, I didn't have to," he whispered, voice a low husk as he lifted one hand to tuck a strand of dark hair behind a finely shaped ear. "But I wanted to. And that...means more to me than you know, my boy." His fingers traced down the line of Credence's sharp jaw, feeling just a hint of stubble there under the pad of his thumb. "Credence...may I kiss you again?" A bit formal he realized, after what had nearly happened on his living room wall, but now that they'd had time to breathe, he felt the need to make sure everything was still good. 

Credence's eyes fluttered shut at the soft touch, tipping his head a little into the contact. They opened again at the almost hesitant question, his chocolate dark eyes studying the way the golden light played across his hardened features. It smoothed the deep worry lines on his face, and gave his body a beautiful cast in the unsteady light. His own full lips curled up in a tender smile, and he nodded. "I would like that very much." 

A faint hint of pressure applied just under Credence's chin brought their lips together for a much softer kiss, tender and sweet. Credence purred into the kiss, lifting both arms to drape over Graves' shoulders. He felt the warmth of both hands against his bare skin, sliding gently up his sides, and he melted deeper into the embrace. Graves' hands slid further around to his back, teasing soft whimpers out of him. All of a sudden, his exploration stopped, and Credence could feel the tips of his fingers brush just against the edge of his network of ugly scars. Right. He hadn't seen those. Breaking the kiss abruptly, he started to pull away, but was met with surprising resistance against his back. 

"Credence..." Graves knew intimately how a scar felt under his fingers, littered with his own tales of violence. He'd had his suspicions that Credence hadn't made it out of that church unscathed, but even in all the time they'd spent together, he'd never seen the young man without a shirt. That alone should have been a clue, but he'd just chalked it up to deeply ingrained modesty, and let it pass. Suddenly the abrupt ending to their incident in the kitchen those weeks ago made much more sense. Now, though, with their bodies so close together, his hands against his warm skin, there was no missing it. "I never...let me see?" 

There was a long hesitation as Credence leaned heavily against Graves' broad chest. For the first time in his life, he wasn't afraid of that ugliness being seen. In fact, he _wanted_ Graves to see them, to see all of him for exactly who he was. Swallowing hard, he nodded against the side of Graves' neck and released a shaky, unsteady breath. Without a word, Graves pulled Credence away from him and guided him down onto the edge of the bed and across the luxurious dark grey duvet cover. They slid somewhere near the middle of the bed, with Graves on his knees behind Credence. His fingers tugged at the collar of the fine silk shirt, drawing it and the tailored vest down his arms and off his slim body. 

Even the candlelight couldn't hide the brutality that was on full display across Credence's back. The scars were heavy and thick, welts that were inflicted out of a special kind of sadistic hatred, and then left to heal poorly. Graves could tell they would be harsh in brighter light, but now they were just rough ridges gilded in gold against his pale skin. "God, Credence," he breathed, an uncommon tremor in his voice. His fingers traced each one individually, feeling the young man shiver under his touch. "This never should have happened to you." As his fingers made their slow way down his back, Graves leaned down and pressed tender kisses in their wake. Credence straightened a little with a soft purr, fingers gripping at the duvet. Seeing this, Graves let one hand slide down Credence's side to his hip. "Lay down for me." With a gentle tug and push, he laid Credence down across the bed on his back, watching his face for any sign of hesitation. Finding none, he leaned down over the younger man, settling his weight between his long legs. "Any time you want me to stop, I will," he said, waiting for a nod from Credence before bringing their lips together again. 

It was a slow kiss, but no less intense for it. Within moments, both men were breathless, Credence arching up beneath Graves to try and increase their contact. He could feel the soft silk of Graves' vest against his bare chest, buttons and ridges a sharp contrast on his skin. His nerves burned, and he panted desperately against Graves' lips as he took his sweet, agonizing time. Breaking the kiss, he moved slowly down the column of his neck, tracing the delicate tip of his tongue down the strap of straining muscle that stood out as he squirmed hard. Two fingers caught the small bud of his nipple, plucking and tugging lightly. Credence's body shivered and arched higher off the bed, one hand twisted in the sheets while the other cautiously skipped over Graves' back, finding purchase on the back of his shoulder and holding on tight. His nails bit into the soft skin and firm muscles, making the man pinning him to the bed growl low in his throat as his lips found the other nipple and sucked lightly. "Mr. Graves, please...! T-touch me, I need to feel...I need to feel you..." 

The temptation to tease the boy was almost irresistible, but not nearly as strong as his need to _taste_ and _feel_. Instead, Graves pushed back so he knelt between Credence's knees, dropping his hands down to his pants, undoing the buttons and tugging them down off of his hips. Credence squirmed and lifted up to help get the slacks aside, now laying naked beneath the older man. His eyes fluttered open to see Graves staring appreciatively at him, all color washed out in the flickering light of so many candles. Awe-filled eyes scoured his lithe body, and with a guttural groan, Graves dropped down between Credence's thighs. His kisses became more intense, more desperate as he moved up the inside of his legs, pushing them wide at the knees as he moved towards the nest of dark curls at the base of Credence's rock hard shaft. 

Eyes up on his enraptured face, the tip of Graves' tongue traced up the vein along the underside, swirling around the head and finding it slick with pre-cum. The taste was musky yet sweet, and immediately intoxicating. His heart skipped a beat at the sound Credence made as he arched fast off the bed, seeking the warm heat of Graves' mouth. "O-oh God, do that again!" His voice was thready and ragged, his fingers twisting into the covers beneath him. Graves covered the young man's thin hand with his own, wrapping his fingers around his wrist and squeezed tight. Only too happy to oblige, he used his other hand to steady Credence's cock at the base and drew him slowly into his mouth. Every inch crept deeper into his mouth, then pulled back out. Building a steady rhythm, Graves moaned quietly as he moved, feeling the thick weight of his shaft along his tongue. One hand crept up the inside of his thigh, and he very gently, very cautiously brushed his thumb over the pulsing ring of tight muscle he knew to be back there. The unexpected contact started a high cry from Credence, his free hand finding purchase in Graves' shoulder and gripping hard enough to bruise. 

Spurred on by the sudden sting, Graves pushed just a little harder, feeling the tip of his thumb nudge past and into his virgin heat. Then he felt Credence's hips tense beneath him, thrusting awkwardly up towards his mouth. Tightening his grip on the slim wrist beneath his fingers, he took as much of him into his mouth as he could and sucked hard, feeling the fat head of his cock nudging against the back of his throat. The sound Credence made was absolutely wrecked, a moan that skittered between his lips and bounced through the pale light as his climax slammed into him. Body taut as a bow, his groan ended in a high, gasping cry as thick streams of cum filled Graves' mouth and slid down his throat. He drank it down eagerly, savoring the salty flavor of it. 

With a desperate whimper, Credence sagged down into the mattress as his muscles gave out. He squirmed on the bed and tried to push back out of Graves' reach. The older wizard recognized the signs of overstimulation and pulled away with a chuckle. He didn't go far, however, resting his cheek against the inside of a sweat-damp thigh. Dark eyes watched the candlelight play over his pale skin as the bright flush slowly started to fade, chest heaving as he tried to float back down to earth. Finally, those beautiful wide eyes blinked open, and Credence lifted his face to smile blearily down at Graves. "Hello, sweet boy," Graves purred, placing a soft kiss to his skin. All Credence could manage was a mumbled sound that might have been a greeting with a lazy smile, which made Graves laugh. 

Sitting back on his knees, he peeled out of his own shirt before stretching out alongside Credence's warm body. One hand drifted slowly up his side, feeling the tremble beneath his skin. Chin propped up on his hand, he looked down at Credence with a warm smile. "How do you feel?" 

"Mmmm, loose," Credence answered without thinking. He rolled towards Graves, tangling their legs together and nuzzling into his neck. He felt a low rumble from the center of his chest and let his hand chase the sensation. His fingers drifted through the coarse hair that curled on his broad chest, feeling the pounding of his heart. "That was...is it always that good?" Tipping his head back, he blinked wide, dazed eyes up at Graves through his thick lashes, finding the older man smiling down at him as he continued to stroke his sweat-slick back. 

"Often better," Graves mumbled before leaning down to kiss Credence again. His own need burned hot between his legs, pulsing and distracting him, but he did his best to reign it in. Whatever Credence was doing with his innocent fingers and slowly writhing body was not helping him however, and soon he was deepening the kiss again. "God, Credence, the things you do to me..." 

"Graves..." Credence's own breath was coming quick, and already he could feel his bloodflow shifting, arousing him again. "Can I...I want to...how can I make you feel good?" As he spoke, his hand drifted down towards one broad pec, finding a nub of a nipple and repeating what had been done to him, which elicited an equally satisfying gasp from Graves. One large calloused hand found his narrow hip and tightened possessively, tugging his slim body a bit closer. 

"You..." Graves knew what he wanted, what he absolutely _craved_ , but he didn't want to push Credence too far. It didn't seem the young man minded, however, as he started to place his own intensifying kisses down his collarbone. 

"Do you..." Credence paused, steeling himself to put together unfamiliar words. He bought himself a bit more time by pushing against Graves to roll him onto his back and straddling his thighs. His curled mop of black hair was a tangled mess on his head, locks falling across his face as he caught his lower lip between his teeth. One long, slow breath, then he met Graves' eyes. "Do you want to fuck me?" 

Everything stopped. Graves' breath caught in his throat as he looked up at the vision above him, all genuine desire and nervous interest. His hands stroked slowly up and down the outside of his quivering thighs, trying hard to hang onto his control that was rapidly fraying at the filthy thoughts Credence's simple, innocent question had sparked. "Yes," he breathed, eyes flashing in a way that made the younger man gasp and squirm. "Yes, I very much do. But I don't want to push you too far..." HIs resolve was rapidly crumbling, though, and Graves knew if Credence offered it again, he wouldn't be able to refuse. 

He seemed to know this, bending down and hovering just above Graves' lips. "I wouldn't have asked if I wasn't willing to offer it to you. I want this, Graves. I want _you_." Credence lowered himself a bit further, feeling Graves start to lift to meet him. "Please." 

That did him in. With a low, huffed moan, Graves buried his fingers in the soft curls of Credence's hair, kissing him hard and fast. His teeth nipped at that beautifully swollen red lip, tongues dancing as he pushed up into a sitting position and forced Credence back a little. Already he could feel the younger man hard between his legs, still-damp cock bumping against his inner thigh. "God, my sweet boy, the things I want to do to you..." A quick twist, and he dropped Credence down onto his back into the pile of pillows at the head of the bed. His thighs pushed against the backs of his slim thighs, spreading him wide and putting him on display in the golden light of the floating candles. With a flick of his wrist, Graves brought several over to the head of the bed to give them better light. "I promise I'll take this slow," he said as his hands caressed the insides of Credence's thighs. 

"You won't hurt me, Mr. Graves," he said as he settled closer to Graves, dropping the title and watching the impact it had on him. "I want this, now. Please." And oh how did he; his body writhed on the bed, sheets soft under him, skin aching for those hands on him. "Please, Mr. Graves, touch me again..." 

"Well, when you ask so nicely, how could I refuse?" Graves' voice dropped to a rough purr. A quiet cantrip, and his fingers were suddenly slick. "Relax, sweet boy, and let me take care of you." He nudged the tip of one finger against that same ring of muscle as before. Credence's brow furrowed in surprise, mouth dropping open in surprise. "Shhhh, relax," he coaxed, letting his finger just glide in a fraction of an inch, his other hand wrapping around his rehardened shaft. "There it is, sweet boy, there it is..." Continuing to whisper soft praise, he alternated stroking him, and sliding his finger in and out. The muscles tensed first, then gave way as pleasure took over. Soon, he was introducing a second finger, biting down hard on the inside of his cheek as his own cock throbbed, desperate for contact. "God you're beautiful like this, Credence, I could watch you all day..." Another whimper from Credence, though, and he was done. 

Withdrawing his fingers slowly, Graves muttered under his breath again to slick his hand, this time spreading it across his shaft. The broad head pressed against the twitching entrance to Credence's hot body. "Oh God, my boy are you ready?" He forced himself to hold still, waiting for the invitation. 

He barely finished the question before Credence was arching up off the bed and trying to pull Graves further into him. " _Please_ , Graves!" He begged, clamping both hands onto his hips and tugging hard. 

A huffed laugh, and Graves let himself sink forward. Credence fell instantly still, his body accepting every broad inch with a deceptive ease. "Ohhhh, that's too good," he groaned, sweat beading up on his brow. One hand braced on the headboard as he started to withdraw, feeling Credence tense around him to hold him in. "I'm not going anywhere, my boy, just t-trust me..." Nearly all the way out, he thrust his hips forward a scant, strong inch, eyes hard on his face and watching as surprised pleasure flickered in those chocolate brown eyes. "Yes, God yes..." 

Graves continued the pattern, pushing in, pulling back out. His nails dug into the wood as he gripped hard, building speed and power. Credence's body was only too willing, supple and compliant as he spread wide for the gruff Auror. Words failed him, leaving Graves only with whispered praise and moans as his own pleasure built. A shift of his weight, and his thick cock found that bundle of nerves buried deep inside the younger man's body. The sudden, intense contact took him entirely off guard, and his second climax slammed into him, taking him by surprise. His body tensed hard, a second shot of cum splattering between them. The sight of Credence falling apart beneath him was all it took for Graves. One, two more deep thrusts, and he came himself, tumbling after his sweet boy into the white blindness of orgasm. 

It took several minutes for Graves' vision to clear, panting heavily and still leaning on the headboard. Credence was flushed and gasping beneath him, his entire body trembling with overload. "Oh, my sweet boy." Collapsing down onto his side, he wrapped around Credence's back, utterly uncaring about the mess the two of them were. Magic would handle the mess in a minute; right now, he just need to be touching Credence. "Are you alright?" 

This was exactly what Credence wanted. Eyes still closed, he pressed back into Graves' chest, shivering and whimpering. He could feel the concern radiating from Graves behind him, and before the older man could move to make sure he was ok, Credence nodded. "V-very good, Mr. Graves, just...need a minute." That seemed to settle him, and a warm, drifty silence surrounded the both of them. Finally, Credence's pounding heart slowed enough that he could turn his head a bit, kissing the top of Graves' head. "You...that was...wow." 

A huffed laugh blew hot against Credence's back, and Graves tipped his head up to rest his chin on his shoulder. "That's one way to put it, yes." He could see the pure, genuine exhaustion on Credence's face, and it made him smile. With a slow twist of his wrist, their combined mess vanished, and the blankets pulled up over the both of them to create a warm, safe cocoon. "Rest now, sweet boy," he said as he placed a soft kiss just behind Credence's ear. "You've earned it." By the slow depth of his breathing, Graves could tell he had already fallen asleep. Curling just a bit closer, he let himself drift off into his own peaceful, dreamless sleep.


End file.
